Runner
by TwelveOhSeven
Summary: Eliza Collins is a runaway. She has no friends, no family, and to anyone who's ever encountered her; no identity. She does what she can to stay alive... but what happens when she runs into a certain green eyed Demigod? Percy/OC Rated T to be safe!


**[A/N: Hello, hello! So, this is my first ever Percy Jackson fanfic, (well, first ever fanfic in general) and I INTEND TO FINISH IT! YAY SELF-CONFIDENCE! But anyways, this follows the book version of Lightning Thief, and instead of Percy being 12, he's 13. And there is no Annabeth - Sorry Percabeth shippers . I know, I know, sue me - and Eliza sort of takes her place... well anyway, reviews are welcomed! COOKIES FOR YOU, IF YOU DO! - Emmie :3] **

_**LET THE STORY BEGIN!**_

My name is Eliza Collins. I am 13 years old and I'm a runaway.

This is my story.

I roll over on the hard surface that is known as a public bench, barely peeking my eyes open in attempt to wake up. The hot morning sun was unbearable, and had forced me to get rid of a good amount of clothing the night before.

Don't worry, I'm not half nude; the sleeves of my old, torn up navy blue t-shirt had been rolled up, and the bottom half was sloppily ripped off - a good inch below my breasts. It was nothing special, just something I found in someone's trash can. There wasn't even any design on it, except for a pocket but that had holes in it, so that hardly counted.  
The jeans were also shortened, but only to a couple inches above my knees. Bascially capris now. They were a little bit harder to get a hold of, and I don't feel like getting into that right now. No need in bringing up the past and giving you the wrong idea.

I sit up straight on the bench, stretching a bit to get all the aches out. My neck ached something awful, but I guess that's what I get for sleeping on a backpack filled to the brim. Bending over, I grab my hole-filled socks, also found in a trash can, along with my muddy converse and put them on. A rehearsed action.

This isn't anything new to me. In fact, I've been sleeping on benches across America for a mere six months now. How I've managed to get from Roanoke, Virginia to Manhattan without being caught and killed... well, I have no idea. I imagined my father would have at least found me when I hit Philadelphia... _But he didn't, _I think, _and there's no point in thinking about what could have happened. _It's important that I don't worry about those things right now.

By now I'm somewhat awake and I'm able to contemplate my surroundings. I see another bench not to far away from the one I'm at now, and sitting on it is an elderly couple; the husband reading a newspaper with his wife next to him, tossing bread crumbs at some birds. Still eyeing them, I notice her purse is sitting on the bench next to them. Perfect.  
I slide on my backpack and let out a sigh of remorse. I'm already regretting stealing from these innocent people, and I haven't even done it yet. _Get a grip, Liz. You don't know these people, why should you care? _I think bitterly.

Slowly but surely, I get off my bench and start making my way over to the couple, trying my hardest to look like a regular teenage girl. _Kinda funny, isn't it, _I joke, _trying to look normal while looking like this. _I quietly laugh to myself and direct my gaze back to the couple_._ While turning the page in his newspaper, the man catches me staring at him and I innocently smile. His wife also notices, and politely waves at me.

This simple action normally wouldn't have been given a second thought, and the correct response would be to wave back. Although I do wave back, my smile falters a bit. They don't even know what I'm about to do.  
I keep walking and notice the woman give her husband a sympathetic look, and he nods in return. I know that they're wordlessly feeling sorry for me, making my anger flare up and whatever guilt I was feeling for them is completely gone. I walk down the sidewalk behind their bench and silently tip toe into the grass until I'm directly behind them. I'm so close to their heads, and I'm scared they'll hear me breathing, so I hold my breath and snatch the woman's pale pink purse.

Thankfully they don't hear me and I manage to escape the park without being caught.

I stop momentarily, look around and shove the purse into my own shabby backpack. I'll check what's in it later tonight when I'm alone and there's no one around.

For a minute the guilt comes back.

…it always does..


End file.
